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The train comes to a stop so suddenly that their whole car jerks forward. A kid that was just getting up slams back into his seat, an older woman would have fallen off of hers if not for the quick reflexes of the people sitting around her, a lady standing by the door stumbles into a man waiting next to her. She immediately starts apologizing, but he smiles and helps her straighten back up, gently holding onto her elbow.
That’s a cute way to meet, Mav thinks belatedly as the force slams him into his own seat too and his hands wrapped around Bradley instinctively tighten. He didn’t sit backwards because he was preparing for this to happen, but as Baby Goose blinks awake on his lap, he’s very glad that he did. Just the thought of dropping him…
Bradley looks up at him, sleepy and wide-eyed and confused, and Mav relaxes his grip again before he can squish him. “It’s alright, baby,” he whispers. “Everything’s alright, the train’s just stopped.”
“Why?” Bradley mumbles, small fist rubbing at his eye, quickly calming down but still clearly unhappy.
“I… I don’t know, sweetheart.” Mav shakes his head. He looks around again, but everyone else seems to be just as confused, even from what he can see of the next car, and there’s no explanation coming over the speakers either.
At least the lights are still on, Mav thinks gratefully as he glances at them, steady and bright and not flickering at all. But obviously not even that will be helpful for long, because when he looks back at Bradley, the boy is staring at the window and their reflections in it, nothing else visible behind them in the pitch black. As Mav watches, shadow Bradley sticks out his bottom lip in a small upset pout.
“I’m sure they’ll fix it fast,” he tries to reassure him, bouncing his knee a little. It gets Bradley’s attention for a moment, those big brown eyes looking up at him with so much trust, but they inevitably slip to the window again.
He’s not… Mav doesn’t think he’s going to cry, at least not right away, if nothing moves too weirdly in the reflection, but he is tired, enough to get fussy any minute. He wanted to come with Mav to the post office, but the trip exhausted him and he fell asleep only minutes ago, there’s no way he’s gotten enough rest.
There’s also unfortunately no way he’s just going to fall asleep again, not with the way he’s watching the window like he’s waiting for something to jump out of it.
Pressing his lips together, Mav glances around the car again, noting that some people are looking around too, and that there’s a woman at the other end of the compartment rocking a stroller, but also that most of the passengers have returned to their books and newspapers. The man and woman who stood at the door before have sat down to talk in a whisper.
Maybe… if he’s quiet too, it should be fine. Either way, it should hopefully bother people less than a crying child.
“Hey, Baby Goose,” he whispers to Bradley, leaning in close to him in the name of making an effort. “Are you lonesome tonight?”
Bradley’s wide eyes fall on him like magic. “Is your… kitchen a sight?” he sings hesitantly, barely audible, and Mav gives him a smile to encourage him.
He bounces his knee to sway them to the rhythm as they continue on through the verses of the ad jingle. Bradley does his best to follow his lead and stay quiet, but his voice starts rising the closer they get to the last lines, because that’s how he likes to sing it at home, shouting at the top of his lungs. There’s really no silencing him, no matter how much Mav gestures for him to keep it down.
“Is your heart filled with pain? Will you come back again?” Bradley throws his head back and Mav rushes to grab him before he falls over. “Shop at Macy’s!” he belts out practically on his own while Mav hunches his shoulders. “And love me! Tonight!”
So much for calming him down.
Mav winces as he looks around, already opening his mouth to apologize to everyone who’s looking at them, when he registers another voice singing along with them.
The lady sitting across from them gives him a sheepish smile when he finds her. “I’m sorry,” she leans in close to tell him. “I just really like that jingle. It’s awfully catchy.”
“It’s alright,” Mav smiles too, reassuring her, and lifts a hand to ruffle Bradley’s hair. “This little guy loves it. He screams if we try to change the channel when it’s on.”
Bradley blinks at the woman, leaning in closer to Mav’s chest, but after a second, he gives her a shy little wave. Then he takes a deep breath, and Mav is a little surprised that he would actually talk to a stranger without prompting, except that Bradley throws his head back and shouts, “How silly can you get!”
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, absolutely not.
“Bradley, baby,” Mav whispers frantically before the kid can set off onto the rest of the chorus. “Sweetheart, I think that’s enough singing for-”
“Oh, just let him.”
“Uhm-” Mav blinks at the old man sitting in front of them, and even Bradley freezes this time.
Bundled up in a big coat, the man smiles at them. “I would quite like to know just how silly this young fella can get.”
“Yeah, yeah!” Bradley immediately responds happily, and the man nods at him, quickly picking up a rhythm to clap out for him and making him laugh in delight. “How silly can you get!”
As Bradley starts singing about cheating, Mav takes a careful look around the car again. There’s a bit more attention on them now but no one seems to be pissed, and the woman who liked the jingle even joins in with the clapping.
“I only know she’s in my arms to hold tonight,” Bradley’s voice starts fading out a little towards the end of the chorus, and he tugs on Mav’s sleeve frantically.
Huffing out a smile, Mav leads him into the verse before he’s really weighed the pros and cons of encouraging this. “I went to Paris in France.”
Bradley’s wide grin as he remembers how the song goes is definitely a plus though. “I found a little romance!” he shouts. “She was a-walkin’ down the boulevard!”
But he’s a little unsure of the verses of this one, no matter how much he loves the chorus, so Mav sings with him to get back to it, bouncing him to the rhythm. The clapping around them feels a lot louder by the time they both shout, “How silly can you get!”
It’s almost a routine to lift Bradley up so he can kick his feet and squirm while they belt out the lyrics and then, well, what’s a lonely boy to do indeed. Or, in this case, what’s Mav to do except dance with his godson in front of their seat? Explain to him that all of these people spurring him on might not like that? Not an option, at least not right now when Bradley is this much into it.
Though he does sit him back down as he sings, “No more foolin’ ‘round, you bet!”
But Bradley couldn’t care less about that, scrambling to stand up again and putting his dirty shoes on the plastic seat before Mav can stop him, to scream the last line at the top of his lungs. “How silly can you get!”
Mav adds all of that to the list of things he needs to apologize for to everyone present, ideally right now. But once more, he doesn’t get to say a single word before the rhythmic clapping melts into applause.
Instead of a sorry, Mav ends up barking out a sharp laugh, surprised and embarrassed and disbelieving all at once. Bradley joins in very enthusiastically, and Mav pinches himself just to make sure he’s not dreaming.
It hurts, but that doesn’t make this feel any more real.
A teenager whistles and another kid screams, “One more!” Someone else copies them and Bradley isn’t far behind and suddenly it feels like half the car is begging him to sing another song. Him.
The last time he tried to sing in public, he got a drink dumped on his head.
“Uhm-” He straightens up to look around. “Are you sure?”
They seem to be. Even the woman at the other end of the car is just standing next to her stroller now, holding the baby in her arms and letting them clumsily clap along.
“Not like we have anywhere to be,“ the old man, who pretty much started the whole thing, encourages him with another smile.
Well, when he puts it like that…
Maybe Bradley isn’t the only one who could use a distraction from being stuck here.
“I- You guys okay with more Nick Rivers?” he calls out. Not everyone looks like they know who he’s talking about, but no one protests either way and a couple people, including the lady who liked the jingle, even cheer. Which is good, because Mav is currently blanking on any other songs in existence.
With a small sigh, he crouches down again and puts a hand on Bradley’s knee. “Hey, buddy,” he whispers and the kid immediately quiets down, wide eyes blinking at him. Mav smiles. “Not a word about this to your parents, okay?”
Bradley nods frantically, but Mav knows he’s probably too excited to remember it right now. They’ll have to make it a pinky swear on the way home. Seal it with a candy bribe, maybe.
He listens to the cheering grow a little quieter, almost hesitant, waiting for his next move, as he nods at Bradley and sets his shoulders. He takes one last deep breath, and jumps up to his feet.
“A-wop-bop-a-loo-bam a-lop-bam-boo!”
---
It’s the child he notices first.
Well, alright, that’s not entirely true, you’re right. He saw the man the moment he got on, found him in the small crowd immediately without even meaning to, in those strange boots and tight jeans and the bomber jacket. He could’ve sworn the rest of the world stopped for a moment when the man smiled.
It was, of course, then that Nick realized just who he was smiling at and finally noticed the small boy sitting on his hip, nodding in an answer to a question Nick had no chance of hearing.
Very dedicated to his current role of a sleeping man, method acting by actually trying to rest, he didn’t let himself linger on the pair for too long and curled up towards the wall again instead, letting his blue hood fall over his eyes and hide his face. Getting home from the studio when your song is currently number one in the whole country and your driver had a last minute family emergency is not an easy thing to do, you know? It leaves no space at all for getting distracted by handsome fathers.
But the second time, it really is the child he notices first. Promise.
The whole car probably notices the kid first, he’s kind of hard to miss once he starts shouting about shopping at Macy’s. It’s hands down the cutest version of the ad that Nick has ever heard, and maybe it’ll actually work too. His childhood home could always use more customers.
Yes, that means you too. Doesn’t have to be right now, just… when you have the time. No rush.
He takes the moment for what it is - an opportunity to look at the boy’s father again, to memorize his beautiful smile, to admire the gentle way he holds his son.
He’s not expecting more than the one song, but suddenly the two of them are belting out How Silly Can You Get? as a duet, and it’s always easy for Nick to get swept up in the euphoria of his own music, even in the very rare moments when he’s not the one performing it. It’s easy for him to clap along when everyone else starts, helping them with the rhythm because that’s something he’d know if you woke him up in the middle of the night - but don’t actually test that, please, sleep is important. You can try early in the morning instead.
He can’t help but grin as he watches the father try to tell his son to calm down with the song, because it absolutely does not work on that little rockstar. Lowering his head to hide his face again, Nick joins in with the applause and uses it to cover a quick, delighted burst of laughter.
He wants to talk to this kid, maybe give him an autograph, maybe find out just how happily married his father really is - and maybe get his number, but you didn’t hear that - though it might be better to wait until the train un-stucks itself and actually arrives into a station. He’s not sure where the duo is getting off but it doesn’t really matter, it’s not like he’s in any rush to get home.
“You guys okay with more Nick Rivers?”
Hearing his own name makes Nick look up frantically, until he realizes that no one is actually talking to him. No one knows he’s here.
As he figures out that it’s just the father talking to his current audience, he lets himself breathe out and calm down again. Maybe he’s more tired than he thought, because he’s lost track of the conversation, has no idea what the man is really asking, but he can’t deny that it’s flattering. He can’t deny that it’s nice, the way his name sounds from that mouth.
No one answers to help Nick get caught up again, and the man crouches down to talk to his son too quietly to hear and explain anything. And as everyone starts calming down, Nick makes himself give up on figuring it out and settles back into his seat with a small sigh, returning to his sleeping role.
It was a stroke of brilliance, that one. He’s relying on it as a disguise because hopefully, even if someone did happen to sit down on the ground right in front of him and recognize him, they’d be nice enough to let him sleep. Because sleep is important.
“A-wop-bop-a-loo-bam a-lop-bam-boo!”
Nick flinches so hard he nearly falls off his seat, and he accidentally catches the eyes of an old woman sitting in front of him. She gives him a smile but she doesn’t seem to realize just who she’s seeing, so Nick lets himself look away from and towards the singing.
The father’s voice starts in on the first verse as he spins himself a bit further away from his son, finding himself a bit more free space, and Nick’s hands rise as if of their own accord to catch up with the rhythm, to set it. But the rest of him can’t do anything but stare.
It is, objectively speaking… not great. Not terrible, because any music is good music in Nick’s opinion, but if he ever performed like that, his manager would at the very least send him on a very long vacation.
The man knows the words but not so much the notes, and he remembers some of the steps but he doesn’t have the skills to pull them off. And yet, he keeps trying, no matter how many times he trips over his own feet.
The instrumental break after the second chorus is nonexistent, with everyone’s clapping, including Nick’s own, leading the song straight on to Daisy, and he doesn’t care, none of it matters, this is the best version of Tutti Frutti he’s ever heard. It’s even better than the one he did in East Germany - and he swung from a chandelier then!
But this is… this is what he does it for. Nothing can touch this, all this joy that doesn’t care if it’s technically perfect or not, that’s just people moving with the rhythm and kids screaming the words. He wants… ah, damn it all, he wants to be a part of this. He wants to enjoy this out loud, he wants all these people to know how much he loves this.
He just needs a moment, needs the perfect moment. And he’ll get it soon, he knows, when the man and his boy start shouting the last chorus, so while he waits for it to come, he makes sure he’s prepared for it.
He fixes up his hair under the hoodie and unzips it to reveal the yellow shirt underneath, rolling up his sleeves as he checks that the seat next to his is still empty, and that mud hasn’t suddenly appeared on his shoes. Then he clears his throat to quietly sing along with the last lines, making sure his voice is as good and ready as it was in the studio.
The man ends in a pose that’s almost an exact copy of Nick’s proper one, but he quickly falls out of it as people break out into another round of applause. He laughs, clapping along with them and bowing deeply while he tries to catch his breath, ruffling his kid’s hair with a heaving chest, and Nick can feel it in his bones, in his blood, in his lungs. This is it.
As the noise and excitement starts calming down again, it’s not hard to guide everyone into the rhythm he wants, not when they’re still that much into it, still that eager for more. He’s not sure they all recognize the song but the father definitely does, and his eyes widen with something like panic. He sucks in a deep breath and stands back up, but Nick doesn’t make him fumble for air. He finds it for himself, pushes his hood off, and jumps up on the seats.
“Well, get out on that floor and hit that rug tonight!”
People scream. The clapping falters for a moment, only to come back even louder when he encourages it. Someone shouts his name, and he gives himself just a couple seconds to close his eyes and savor it all before he’s jumping down on the floor and turning around to smile at everyone. But the wink, he saves for his opening act.
“I said romp and stop and slide like the devil on a thread!” He doesn’t have a rug here but he almost nails the choreo anyway, moving through the car towards the man. He’s frozen still, staring at Nick with wide eyes, and so damn adorable.
“Well, stand back, baby, I believe I’m gonna fray my edge!” He twists around a pole and there’s the screaming again, still, the only music he needs.
And then he’s there, still gaping at him, mouth hanging open.
Nick drops down on his knees and slides through the last couple of feet left between them. “You gotta straighten the rug!” He jumps back up but doesn’t go for his man just yet, he offers a hand to his boy first, flashes him a smile and lifts him up to stand on his seat again.
“Yeah, straighten the rug!” the kid shouts and Nick grins wide, nodding to encourage him.
“You gotta give it a push!”
“Yeah, give it a shove!” Other people are joining in now but Nick can still hear the boy the loudest and oh, he just loves him.
He finally turns to the father, and he does look a little melted now, a little looser, but before Nick can do anything, he swallows and stutters, “I- I’m sorry-”
Nick shakes his head and holds his hand out. “Well, rug cuttin’, honey, now baby, won’t you give it a tug?”
The man's eyebrows rise in surprise and Nick gives him the firmest nod he can. His son claps out of rhythm as if to encourage him, and the moment he lifts his hand - left, with no ring on it, yes, he’s paying attention to that - Nick doesn’t hesitate to grab him and pull him close.
He gives the instrumental break a bit of space, as much as he dares, while he taps out the rhythm with his shoes and takes a step back, guiding his new dance partner through a simple move and spinning him around.
“Woah!” The man stumbles a little but Nick’s got him, pulling him in close again as he takes a look around and finds more people dancing with them, having fun with them.
“Just trust me,” he whispers quickly, one hand on the man’s strong shoulder to help him find his balance, and then he’s moving backwards with him. “You better watch that mean old rug don’t bite you back!”
“You better watch that mean old rug don’t bite you back!” Oh, but that voice is without a doubt his favorite, that’s the one he needs to make this duet absolutely perfect. Especially with that toothy smile accompanying it, with those gorgeous eyes that are still looking at him like they can’t quite believe this is happening.
Can you?
Well, you better.
“Yeah, I’m tellin’ you, baby, it ain’t no backdoor mat!”
He doesn’t move them too far away from the boy, so none of them need to worry about him getting swept away by all this joy. But the little guy seems nothing short of ecstatic for his dad, and Nick doesn’t let go of him for even a second as the whole car shouts the last chorus.
“And there’s nobody!” He sings over them all, pulling his dance partner close to his chest - and God, he’s so much shorter than Nick, oh no.
“I’d rather straighten it with!” he gets back in that beautiful voice, loud and happy.
“Than you!” he draws the last note out as much as he can while the people around them start shouting and whistling, and the man lets go of his hand to clap along with them. God, he looks absolutely gorgeous.
Nick can’t believe he wanted to sleep less than fifteen minutes ago. He’s never felt more awake, more alive.
“Wow,” the man breathes out when Nick runs out of air at last, when he can’t possibly stretch this moment out for even a second longer.
“What’s your name?” he whispers right back. He needs to know - and you’d appreciate it too, wouldn’t you?
“I-” the man swallows, still, still full of that disbelief. “Mav. Maverick.”
A maverick, huh? Nick wonders if he grew up around cows.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maverick,” he says, hoping he’ll have the chance to ask later. “I like your singing.”
“You- really?”
“Really,” Nick confirms. He won’t lie and say it’s great, because he’s not a liar, but. “You sing like you’re having fun.“ And that’s what really matters at the end of the day.
You do know that, right? Just get out there and have fun, even if you’re not good at it. That’s what’s important.
Maverick swallows. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Don’t apologize, I was hiding,” Nick assures him quickly. “I'm glad I knew you were here.”
Maverick blinks at him, but before any more words can leave his mouth, Nick’s ears finally catch onto what the people around them have been chanting. “One more! One more! One more!”
He grins and raises an eyebrow at Maverick, squeezing his hand a little. “You up for it?”
Maverick chokes on air. “You- you’re sure? I’m not… I don’t do this.”
“Do you want to?” Nick waits for his small, hesitant nod, and copies it easily. “Then that’s all that matters.” And then he lets go of him for just a second, just to lean down and get eye to eye with his son. “Any requests?”
The little boy kicks his feet happily. “Skeet surfin’!”
Maverick laughs and that’s really all the encouragement Nick needs, but a couple people around them whistle too, just in case it isn’t.
“As you wish, little man,” he whispers to the boy, and then he’s pushing his shoulders back and jumping into a surfer pose. “Skeet surfin’...”
The boy follows suit up on his seat and sings like he’s been waiting his whole life to be Nick’s backing vocals. “Skeet surfin’...”
Other people join in too, but Nick only has eyes for the two in front of him, for the endearment Maverick looks at his son with and the way his voice is just a little too quiet.
“If everybody had a twelve gauge!” Nick reaches for his partner again to get him dancing, get him screaming the lyrics properly, because this is Maverick’s show as much as his.
“And a surfboard too!” Yes, there’s that voice, there’s that joy he wants to listen to forever.
“You’d see ‘em shootin’ and surfin’!“
“From here to Malibu!”
“Because it’s-”
“Totally bitchin’!” Maverick’s son squeaks, high pitched, with all the joy of a child getting away with cursing, and a couple people dancing around them laugh.
As he’s already proven, Maverick is not the greatest at proper dance steps, he doesn’t know them and he barely has the rhythm for them, but he has more than enough enthusiasm. Nick leads him through something less professional and more improvised, more loose, and he keeps up with only stumbling once, with a huge smile and stars in his eyes - and something like relief too.
To not make his main backing vocalist feel left out, Nick picks up the kid for a couple lines too, to spin him around and deliver him on his dad’s shoulders to dance with them both. “And we’ll have fun with our guns ‘till our lifeguard takes our ammo away!”
“First wave!” the kid shouts, throwing his arms out around Maverick’s head.
“Don’t get tired!” both of them and half the car answer him, and he claps happily.
“Second wave!”
“Aim higher!” Maverick lifts him up high as he sings.
“Third wave!” the boy squeaks out, absolutely delighted, and on the next line, Maverick throws him up into the air a little.
“Pull and fire!” He presses his son to his chest for a moment, before lowering him back into his seat, and Nick sets about leading the next chorus. He spins around to take it all in again, a mother swaying with her baby, an old man tapping along, a group of teens pretending they’re surfing, a kid dancing up on her seat, and each and every one of them singing along and having a good time.
“Third wave!” he sings at the top of his lungs and Maverick grins at him, ruffling his son’s hair before he moves away to straighten back up.
“How’s tha- ah!” The train jerks back into movement and Maverick yelps, stumbling forward right into his chest. Nick quickly grabs him around the waist and rushes to put his legs apart, keeping balance for them both even as he glances away to make sure the kid is firmly in his seat and no one else has gotten hurt either.
One teenager is on the ground, but he’s laughing and another one is already helping him back up, the woman with the baby has her back pressed to a wall, and an old lady is gripping the rail next to her seat. But no one is crying, or bleeding, or stuck halfway out a window, so Nick breathes out a relieved chuckle and looks back down at Maverick, right into those wide green eyes.
“Sharing sunsets with my favorite girl,” he croons as he cups Maverick’s cheek, watching as the surprise in his expression melts into disbelief and back between one blink and the next.
He braces his hand on Nick’s chest to stand up on his own two feet again, but he doesn’t go far, stays right there in his arms. Nick can feel the warmth in his chest, born from hearing that voice, seeing that smile - and finding no ring on no finger - moulding into something bigger, more tangible.
When Maverick’s eyes drop to his lips, he almost forgets to sing the next line, but he’s a professional for a reason. “When we shoot the curl, we really shoot the curl.”
They dance slower through the last part of the song, staying close as the train finally decides to arrive into a station. The whole car sings the last lines like a choir, their voices fading as everything stops moving again and all the doors slide open, the noises of the train station sneaking inside and drowning the music out.
“I-” Maverick gasps, quietly, adding to the cacophony, after Nick leads him through the last step and brings them to a halt, no matter how much he doesn’t want this to end. “We have to go.”
“Alright. Let’s go.” Nick has no idea where they actually are, but he couldn’t care less. He would follow Maverick anywhere - not least of all because he looks very handsome from behind, carrying his son on his hip.
And you have no right to say anything, you’d agree if you saw him.
Unfortunately, Nick doesn’t get to keep looking at him for long, because the moment he steps out onto the platform, he’s welcomed into the station by a wave of screaming and a group of girls asking him for an autograph. And he doesn’t have the heart to tell them no, he could never.
He does want to tell Maverick to wait for him though, but he loses him in the crowd the moment he stops walking, as if both he and the boy have simply vanished.
It’s disappointing, but it’s still not too hard to find a smile when one of the girls asks if she can take a polaroid of him.
By the time the crowd lets him go, he’s at least figured out what station he’s in. It’s only a stop away from his own, so he also figures he might as well take a walk home instead of waiting for another train and praying that this one is a smoother ride.
And because he still has hope that he might find his man again, yes. Do you even need to ask?
He waves at the crowd one last time before he sets out up the stairs and onto the street, rolling his sleeves down and putting his hood up to hide again, except - Maverick is still there.
Well, not exactly there there. He’s already turning the corner at the end of the street, his son jumping around him with an ice cream in his hand, but he’s not gone, not yet, and that’s all that matters.
Nick shoves his hood back down and tugs his sleeves back up. He takes a deep breath, leaps up the last two steps, and sets off after them.
“I can’t believe it’s true,” he calls out, singing, and it’s just loud enough to reach Maverick and make him pause, even with only the sleeve of his jacket left in Nick’s view. He steps out through the street, even more determined now.
“That I just met a girl like…” He has to jump out of the way of a kid on a skateboard but by the time he looks up again, Maverick has returned close enough to see him, blinking at him from the corner. Nick meets his eyes and grins, finishing the line easily, “You!”
Maverick’s mouth falls open and Nick can just barely hear the echo of his disbelieving laughter floating on the wind.
“Each night I’m all alone!” He hasn’t performed this one off the stage yet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t improvise. “My heart’s an empty home!” He grabs onto a lamp post, spinning towards the road as he leans out and presses the back of his hand to his forehead before he reaches out towards Maverick. “To see you standing there! Would be my only prayer!”
Maverick takes another step back towards him, his kid tugging on his hand as if to encourage him, and Nick pulls himself onto the sidewalk again to continue forward, through the street and the verse. “You set my heart on fire!”
“It’s burning with desire!” Maverick calls back weakly, like he’s testing it out, and Nick grins at him. He has to duck out of the way of a man with a stroller, but then he’s reaching out again, urging Maverick closer.
“Your touch, your lips, your soul!” He stops to press his hands to his chest, to put his palms over his heart. “You make me lose control! Baby, please!” He offers his hand out, asking Maverick for another dance even though he’s still too far away - but not for long now, as he stumbles another step towards Nick. “Spend this night with me!”
By the time he sings the words again, Maverick is close enough for Nick to touch him, to hold his hand and pull him into his chest once more. “Darlin’, I’m here to say,” he whispers and Maverick lets out a chuckle that feels like a verbal attempt to mask the blush blooming all the way to the tips of his ears.
“I’m listening,” he manages softly, playing along.
“I pray there’ll come a day,” Nick goes on, cupping his red cheek, fingers brushing under his even brighter ear. “When by my side you’ll stay.”
He holds onto Maverick for the rest of the verse, leans down closer to him with every word, whispering about true love against his lips. And Nick would’ve kissed him too, screw finishing the song, he would’ve done it, especially with Maverick tilting his head to meet him there, if not for the biker that passes inches from their shoulders.
He has to jerk them both out of the way instead, to avoid the pedals, and Maverick gasps, surprised, startled. But Nick just smiles and guides him into one more dance step to help him find his footing as he launches into the chorus. “You set my heart on fire! It’s burning with desire!”
A car honks in the distance, someone whistles, but with Maverick’s hand in his, Nick couldn’t care less about any of it. “Your touch, your lips, your soul,” he keeps on singing as he drops one hand to Maverick’s hip and holds him, tight and steady. “You make me lose control.”
“Baby, please,” Maverick says the next line when Nick pulls him back into his arms, gripping his shoulder like he wants to stay close.
“Baby, please,” Nick picks up gently. “Spend this night with me.”
“Oh, baby. Baby, please,” Maverick says again, the opening of the last verse, except then his fingers twist into Nick’s collar and he’s not singing anymore when he continues, “I’ve seen how this part goes, please don’t jump into the traffic in front of my godson.”
Well, there goes that plan.
But also… godson, huh? That’s certainly nice to know.
Oh, what’s that? You already knew that? Well, why didn’t you say something?!
Nick smiles and covers Maverick’s hand with his own, makes his grip relax a little. “But don’t you understand I need you?” he whispers. “I can’t live without you. I-”
“Please, don’t say you love me,” Maverick interrupts him frantically. “We’ve just met.”
Nick huffs softly, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s just no use.”
Maverick presses his lips together, fighting a smile as he tugs on Nick’s collar, not at all threatening. “I’m warning you.”
“Darlin’,” Nick whispers, fingers sinking into Maverick’s hip to pull him even closer. “I can’t face another day without you.”
Maverick rolls his eyes, but his sigh is all fondness, his cheeks all red. “Oh, honey lamb, I- I’m not sure-”
“Don’t you understand I’m losin’ my very mind?” Nick tilts his head for a kiss again, and Maverick copies him almost immediately. “I gotta have you with me.”
“You’re driving me crazy, sugar drawers,” Maverick huffs, amused.
“Baby, I- I’m standin’ at the great abyss of love.” Nick leans back, just a little, and immediately feels Maverick’s grip on him tighten. “And I’m teeterin’!”
“Don’t you dare,” he grits out, tugging him back.
“Oh, dumpling,” Nick breathes out, trailing a hand along Maverick’s arm as he glances at the boy standing just a couple feet behind him, staring at them both with wide eyes like he’s witnessing the Christmas miracle itself, his ice cream melting down his arm. Nick sends him a wink and watches him gasp before focusing on Maverick again. “I promise I’ll even be nice to your godson.”
He gets a snort in response. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Baby, please,” Nick whispers, letting his tone drop into his normal speaking voice as he cups Maverick’s cheek. “Go on a date with me?”
“I-” Maverick’s eyes widen. “You’re serious?”
“Should I sing it again?”
“No!” he shouts frantically. “No, no, you don’t need to do that, I just- you’re- you’re you.”
“And you’re you,” Nick points out. “I want you to be with me.”
“But you’re famous,” Maverick says, like that matters. “And you know nothing about me. I- I’m deployed most of the year, I don’t-”
“I’m on tour most of the year.” Nick shrugs. “I’ll get you VIP tickets to every show you can make. Both of you,” he emphasizes with a glance at the kid and he squeals excitedly. That sounds like a yes from him, but Maverick shakes his head.
“You don’t have to do that, just…”
“Just?”
“Just-” Maverick swallows. His eyes drop to Nick’s lips and he clicks his tongue. “Damn it, just kiss me.” He tugs him forward and finally, Nick does just that.